


and lost boys like me are free

by blackkat



Series: Zabrak Bros prompts [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Maul finally steals himself an apprentice, Time Travel, Undercover as a Jedi, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Maul stares down at the very dangerous, very volatile Jedi Sidious used to muse about turning to the darkness, and wonders for the first time if he potentially miscalculated.
Relationships: Darth Maul & Jon Antilles
Series: Zabrak Bros prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941697
Comments: 61
Kudos: 836
Collections: Best of Fanfiction





	and lost boys like me are free

Maul stares down at the very dangerous, very volatile Jedi Sidious used to muse about turning to the darkness, and wonders for the first time if he potentially miscalculated.

All of eight, quiet and wide-eyed and huddled deep in Maul’s oversized cloak, Jon Antilles stares back at him, barefoot and pale in the cold air. He’d been _criminally_ easy to snatch, and Maul is still mildly offended by just _how_ easily, given that it _was_ a criminal act and there should be _standards_ , but apparently his Master sees nothing wrong with setting a child loose in the mild of the wilderness to find their way back to camp.

Not that Sidious did, either, but Maul was under the rather vague impression that Jedi were supposed to be against such things.

“Well?” he asks imperiously, folding his arms over his chest. “Where is my thank you for rescuing your sorry carcass from those beasts?”

Pale eyes snap shut, and the boy who will, if Maul calculated this right, one day grow up to be one of the Jedi Order’s most legendary Masters—

He flinches.

“Sorry, Master,” he says quickly, stumbling over the words, and then bows. The hood of Maul's robe slides forward, covering his head completely, and he hastily shoves it back, tense. _Afraid_ , and Maul blinks.

That’s a very…Sith reaction for a Jedi padawan to have.

A little unsettled, because he was expecting a Jedi full of compassion and weakness and _softness_ , and not an interaction that could have been him facing Sidious once, very long ago, Maul pauses. Considers, and—well. There's no reason to change course, precisely. He’s much more able to deal with this than a _real_ Jedi.

Except—

Time travel is a hassle, Maul thinks, aggravated. He _needs_ his plan to work to bring Sidious down and shame Kenobi, and altering too many things this early on will throw off all the rest. Even _small_ changes should be suspect, and snatching a Jedi padawan is already risking enough. Maul is hoping Antilles’s Master will simply assume he died during her little test, but—drawing _any_ attention this early in his plans would be disastrous. And Sith training is _clearly_ unreliable, since Sidious never taught Maul himself nearly enough to win fights.

Clearly Maul is on his own in this. There’s only one person who managed to almost win a fight against Sidious, and that’s Mace Windu. That fine line between light and darkness is the key, and _just_ Sith training won't be enough.

Maul hisses in irritation, shoves his hood back, and crouches down, hauling Antilles back upright by the neck of his tunics. Antilles stares at him with wide, startled eyes, braced for _something_ , and Maul refuses to acknowledge the twist deep in his stomach at the memory of some of Sidious’s earliest punishments. Lessons, technically, but—they were punishments.

Sidious failed with all _three_ of his apprentices. Vader, Dooku, and Maul himself were never able to beat the Jedi, were _beaten_ by Jedi, and that calls for a change of strategy. Maul got to this planet by pretending to be a Jedi, so—perhaps there's a path forward in continuing the charade. It certainly won't _hurt_ , and the Jedi Order has all the awareness of a vulpix encased in salt. They most _definitely_ won't notice one more Jedi Master and padawan pair wandering the galaxy.

“None of that,” Maul says, and shakes him lightly, then drops him on his feet. Savage introduced him to the Nightbrothers once, and there were Zabrak younglings in the village that Maul encountered. They're the closest he has to experience with Human children, but—surely there isn't _that_ great a difference. Feed them rare meat, wrestle with them to build hunting skills, make sure they don’t bite anyone too hard, and that’s child-rearing. Maul ran a criminal empire; raising one Human boy can't be any sort of difficult in comparison.

“Sorry, Master,” the boy in question says, barely audible even with how close Maul is.

Maul will forever deny the thrill that sparks through him at the title. He’s stolen himself an _apprentice_. And this one, at least, likely won't object to being stolen.

“That’s perfectly all right,” he says magnanimously, and offers Antilles his hand. Refuses to think of Ezra, turning him down, or Ahsoka rejecting him, because this will be different. Maul is _decades_ back in time, the only one with all the cards, the one with all the _power_. He’ll rebuild his criminal empire, bide his time, and _strike_ , and Sidious will fall. “You are _my_ apprentice now, boy.”

Antilles looks at his hand for a long moment, startled, and then up at his face, like he’s checking for whether Maul is sure. Maul does _not_ scowl at him, or badger him into taking the hand, because he understands how temptation works. And, after a long minute, Antilles finally slides his hand into Maul's, though…awkwardly. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing with it. Maul sympathizes. Interpersonal gestures are a morass of confusion. Zabraks use their horns or their fists, and that’s always made much more sense.

Deftly, Maul closes his fingers around Jon's small hand, then pushes to his feet with a faint creak of metal. Jon watches him, solemn, quiet for a moment, and then asks, without pulling away, “I am?”

“Of course,” Maul says silkily. “An old Jedi tradition. One padawan found wandering in a dangerous situation make be taken on by the finder without Council approval. It’s a very old custom.”

“Oh,” Jon says, sounding relieved. He carefully tightens his grip on Maul's hand, following along without protest as Maul starts down the slope. His bare feet skid on the stones, and he stumbles, almost falling.

Numb feet, most likely, Maul thinks, eyeing him. He suffered the same, back when he had feet. The metal is superior, at least in that way. Jon not having the same advantage will slow them down, and Maul would really rather get them off the planet without the boy’s Master realizing what’s happened.

Decided, he leans down, hauls Jon up and drops him on his hip, vaguely similar to how he saw Nightbrothers carrying Zabrak younglings once. Probably. Jon sucks in a sharp breath, but there's no yelping, no protests. He just digs his fingers into Maul's tunic and hangs on, and Maul makes a sound of approval. He’d _considered_ taking Kenobi, but—well. Maul would have to spend years arguing with a _child,_ then, and there's little fun in that. A polite, biddable padawan is far superior.

“My name is Maul,” he tells Jon. “You will call me Master Maul, and I will make you into the greatest warrior the Order has ever seen.”

“Okay,” Jon says, soft. “I—I don’t have a name. My Master said—”

“ _I_ am your Master,” Maul corrects. “That woman is simply…” He gropes for her name, having only vaguely been interested in it before, and stops, flummoxed.

“Dark Woman,” Jon suggests. “That’s what people call Ma—her.”

“Dark Woman,” Maul allows, as if it’s not the most pretentious name he’s ever heard a Jedi take. Kuro, or something, Maul heard. He’ll recognize it if he hears it again, and needs to avoid her. “You can't have no name, that’s inconvenient. I will call you Jon Antilles.”

Jon's fingers tighten in cloth, just a little, and he ducks his head. “Thank you, Master,” he says, a tiny voice, but Maul can feel the spark of awe and joy and gratitude in him. It’s…revolting.

Maul is, to his own shock and horror, tempted to try and inspire it again. _Horrific_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [to be who we wanna be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167170) by [CherFleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherFleur/pseuds/CherFleur)




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